


Flame

by orphan_account



Category: EastEnders
Genre: Angst, Chryed, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-15
Updated: 2011-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-27 08:46:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But how can I when you look at him that way; when you didn't *tell* me...?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flame

**Author's Note:**

> Ooh, looks like this one might be fairly angsty and although I don't do angst, when I do do it I do not play - be warned.
> 
> I know of one person who really wants to read this (hi Rusty!) The rest of you might not.

FLAME

 

He'd been doing this for a little while now, so had got over the nerves, the absolute certainty that the client would take one look at him and call him a fraud. He had expected to fall back on the strategy of telling a new client that he was a novice, that having the need to start somewhere they'd been elected as his 'guinea pig' oh for the first month at least, but he'd not had cause to resort to that once, not even once.

Seems that they were there to get treatment and trusted that were he not able to deliver then he wouldn't be _offering_ them treatment, which was pretty far-sighted and clever of them, really. No, he was the only idiot in the room as far as that went, but he'd got over that hump and yes he was still learning on the job (that'd probably never change), but now he was confident that he wouldn't fall flat on his face the moment he had a guy under his hands expecting him to work wonders.

Christian had rightly scoffed at his fears, but then Christian was a very hands on person, really didn't fear other people in any way, shape or form. And it wasn't that he _did_ , but Christian didn't tend to _see_ other people the way he did. Just one of the many ways they were different. Just one of the many ways they complemented each other.

And he actually _enjoyed_ the job a lot more than he'd been expecting. He wasn't exactly shy, but left to himself wouldn't have chosen a profession that involved so much social skill and that level of comfort in intimacy. But then had it been left to his conscious mind he'd have chosen his 'job' based on all the wrong ' ideals', something he'd never have understood had he not met Christian, not had his life 'fall apart' on him. Had anyone told him a few years ago that having his life fall apart was the best thing that could possibly happen to him they'd have been met with a polite, but heartfelt demur.

The fact that he no longer felt _shame_ when he imagined his mother telling her friends what he did for a living let him know just how much his priorities had shifted.

 

*

 

He only had the one client scheduled this afternoon. Good. It had been a while since he and Christian had both been free at the same time and with the entire afternoon and evening stretching out ahead of them, well, Syed was sure they could think of creative ways to wile away those empty hours...

He readied his smile as he heard the familiar sounds of the distinctly masculine tread that let him know he had a client...

The knock was bold and he smiled as he surmised that the was about to have one of _those_ clients – the ones who made jokes about your sexuality (and theirs) and how he wasn't to go getting any ideas. He really liked bantering this way – light-hearted, all in good spirit. It always made the session go more quickly, put _him_ in a very good mood.

“It's open.”

He smiled as the door fell open, then frowned in brief puzzlement as, for a few seconds, his mind fought to fit the pieces together. 

He _knew_ this guy... Oh.

 

**

“Thought you only had the _one_ client today.” Christian stole a chip from Roxy's plate, returning her glare with a grin.

“I got the dates mixed up. Stupid. You didn't have anything planned did you?”

“Well yeah I did.” A wink at Roxy, who rolled her eyes. “But unless you're going to do something that'll make you really knackered your mix-up shouldn't have _that_ much of an effect.”

There was a short silence on the other end of the line. “Well it's this client - he's turning into a bit of a pain to be honest. Christian, can we save the er that for another night?”

Straightening in his seat, Christian frowned at Roxy. “What's up, Sy? You in trouble?”

“Trouble? No, of course not. Oh the client, you mean? No, nothing like that, just one of those nit-picky ones, the ones who expect the earth for a measly tenner.”

“Mean bastard. I'd pay a hundred times that much to get your hands on me.”

He could hear the smile in Syed's voice. “Well luckily for you _you_ get that for free.”

“Oh and don't ever think I don't know how lucky I am.”

“Ditto.”

“See you later then?”

“Of course. Love you.”

“Love you.” He allowed Syed to hang up first.

“What was that about? You look like you lost a fiver and found sixpence.” Roxy very casually put a chip in her mouth, blue eyes roaming over his face.

“Something's wrong.”

“With Syed? What?”

“Not sure, but he was bullshitting me and I don't like it.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“See if he's prepared to do it to my face.”

Roxy made a face, took another chip.

 

**

 

“So you deliberately sought me out? Why?”

“You're really asking that?” He sat on the massage table, familiar brown eyes on Syed's face, touching every visible part of his body the way they always had.

“Don't sit there. Here.” Syed showed him to the chair, ignoring the deliberate way he brushed up against him in the process of sitting. “Do you want a drink?”

He laughed. “Oh are you offering me a massage then, Syed?”

“That's what you're here for isn't it?” He was still uncertain about his feelings, except for the sense of irritation at being 'tricked'.

“Do you know, it was the strangest thing seeing your name on that advert. I knew straight away it was you. But that sort of connection isn't something that ever really goes away.” He looked into Syed's eyes. “Is it?”

“It was one night. I can't believe you're still doing this – making it into something it wasn't.”

“Yet I can believe that _you're_ still trying to make it less than it was. I know you regretted it, but the thing, Sy, is that  is that I also know why.”

Syed stared at him, stomach in knots. He had never expected to see Rob again, had  _prayed_ never to see him again and when he'd met and fallen in love with Christian had been certain that his wish had been heard and granted. He'd erased every trace of him from his mind and had called it a job well done. But now, seeing him again, here in his own space, set square in the midst of his new life was forced to admit that he' been fooling himself.

“I've moved on, met someone, fallen in love with him, made a new life for myself. I don't want you, don't need you.”

“I don't doubt you don't need me, but I'll call you a liar for saying you don't want me. You may be in love with him, you may be faithful to him – you always did have that strange sense of morality, didn't you, Syed? - but I know you still want me. I was your best friend: we spent hours, days nights together, told each other _everything..._ like I said, that sort of connection doesn’t just fade away. You only _wish_ it would.”

“Rob, don't do this. You said that you loved me-”

“And you were too much of a coward to ever say it back.”

“I did love you, you know I did-”

“Do you tell him all the things you told me? Lie on the sofa with him and tell him all about your hopes, your fears, your dreams?”

“It's not the same with him. Rob, you're being unfair-”

“He got you and I didn't. Why should I be 'fair'?”

“What we had was … it had its day, Rob.”

“You slept with me once – _once_ \- and it was so damn good that you ran as fast, as hard and as far as you could, because you were afraid you wouldn't be able to keep it under wraps any more. Syed, I know you, I know you in the way I know no-one else – not even this guy you're with – _ever_ could.”

“And that's why, Rob. That’s why. I don't _want_ that. It was too intense.”

Rob examined his face, reminding Syed of how it used to be, how he'd  _felt_ , how Rob had scared the life out of him with his knowing eyes, the acceptance in every word he said, every smile he bestowed. “You're happy with him?”

“Yes.”

“More than you would be with me.”

Syed knew he should have answered unhesitatingly and with anyone else he probably would have. “No, but I chose him, Rob, I  _couldn't_ choose you.”

“But you do love me.”

“What good does it do to hear me say it? I'm not going to _be_ with you.”

“I _need_ to hear it. _I_ need it. Of course I understood why you ran, but do you think I haven’t been absolutely _miserable_ all these years, not knowing where you were, what path you'd chosen? I was _sure_ you'd be married to some nice Muslim girl by now and instead here you are living with your lover, offering services to horny guys.”

“It's not like that, don't try to sully it.”

He was smiling, teasing him. “Or is it myself I’m referring to? I was always a horny guy around you and  _you_ always pretended not to notice. Until that one night...”

“Let's not do this, Rob.”

Rob looked at him for a long, silent moment. “What would it take for you to come back to me?”

 

**

 

Christian hadn't  _meant_ to go to the Salon, but somehow his steps had led him there, the nagging sense of something gone or about to go wrong dictating his movements. He had never spied on him, had not ever thought of him that way, but there'd been something in Syed's voice, something in the silences that fell between that made him...jittery, uncertain. He didn't even  _know_ what it was, knew that it wasn't another guy – Syed wasn't that type of man – but also knew that he was being kept in the dark about  _something_ and that fact alone caused the nagging feeling to develop claws.

He hadn't made up his mind whether or not to go in, didn’t even know what he'd say once he did –  _if_ he did. But now that he was here he might as well ask him straight out what was up. Syed couldn't lie to his  _face_ – that much he knew.

He stepped into the road, and stopped: the doors had opened and Syed was coming out, laughing – giggling, actually – his arm trapped in the grip of a dark-haired man who Christian knew he'd never seen before.

“I do not! You know I don't.”

“Oh yeah, you always _say_ that, but 3 orange juices spiked with a bit of lemon and you're anybody's!”

Still laughing, head ducked in that way Christian was really familiar with, Syed turned and...touched his companion...in a way that had Christian's heart in his mouth. He froze, praying that they'd carry on walking without either of them looking his way...

And silently watched as they did just that.

 

**

“And he's worth it?” Rob's eyes watched him over the rim of his glass.

Syed looked away. He'd hoped that Rob wouldn't ask that: he had no definitive answer to that question: some days –  _most_ days - yes, he thought he was worth it, other days he was less sure. “Yes, of course he's worth it!”

“Good.” Rob didn't believe him. “So you did manage to get back into their good books then. Told you you could. Mums – forgive you anything. _Eventually_.”

“Well _you_ don't know my mum.”

“No.” He took another sip of his drink. “Was always waiting for _that_ particular honour.”

Their eyes met and held.

Syed was the first to break the stare. “So you did move to Scotland then?”

“No reason not to.” 

Though Syed could feel the weight of Rob's stare he didn't raise his eyes. He did that: said things – seemingly insignificant things - and weighted them with his skilful, anything but insignificant silences. He seemed to regard conversation like a game of chess: he moved and waited until you made  _your_ move... The only weapon at your disposal was the refusal to play.

“I've never been. Always said I'd go to the Festival at some point.”

Rob laughed. “Oh keep telling yourself that, Sy. You'd be bored to tears before the train even reached the station!”

“I like the theatre.”

“You used to.”

And there it was again, the seemingly insignificant placed carefully where it could be most effective.

“Still do.”

“Oh? When was the last time you went to a production?”

“Look, it's not something I really miss. If I get the opportunity-”

“Well why don't we take in a show this weekend? I'm free.”

“Well I'm _not_ \- in case you'd forgotten.”

“So he's got you tied to the kitchen sink?”

“Don't be stupid. What I mean is, we've made plans.”

He didn't believe him. “Oh? Shame. I'm at a bit of a loose end and thought it'd be nice to catch up on old times with you.”

“Isn't that what we're _doing_?”

“Yes, but I like going to the theatre with you. Remember how good it used to be?”

“I do, of course I do, but that was _then_ , Rob. I'm different now.”

“No, you're not – you only _want_ to be.”

“Rob...” With a small sigh he turned to look out the window. “Don't. Don't do this. I agreed to go for a drink because you're a friend, but if you're going to try to make it _more_ than that then no, let's just forget it.”

“If I was just a friend then you'd go – it wouldn’t bother you. Look, Syed, you were right what you said earlier about me saying I loved you, and as you implied, the fact that I _do_ love you means that no, I won’t fuck things up for you, but is that really the point? I think we both know it isn't.”

“Rob,” he pleaded, hating himself, hating the fact that this man knew him so well, hating the fact that even a full 6 years after their time together Rob still had an effect, hating that this felt so right, that the past still had a hold on him. “I love him. I want to be with him.”

“I know.” He waited, patient as a spider watching the fly make its hapless, inexorable way toward its carefully fashioned trap.

“Let's have this drink and say our goodbyes. I think that's best.”

Rob took another sip from his glass before answering. “Okay,” he agreed. “Let's do that.” 

 

 

**

 

He hadn’t even considered talking to Roxy about it. What was he going to say in any case? I saw Syed walk out – openly walk out of his place of work (which just happens to be in a place where everyone in the street can see) – with a bloke I don't know and immediately decided they were fucking? How  _hard_ would she laugh though? He didn't even know why he was so out of sorts about it all! They hadn’t been doing anything – just laughing and touching like people who were fucking each other or  _wanted_ to... damn! He got up and walked over to the window, staring out at the mundane, familiar sights. Syed was faithful, dammit, the most faithful guy he'd ever known, the sort of guy who'd never consider even sharing a New year's Eve  _kiss_ with anyone else. If he hadn't been struck by some idiotic....dumbness....he'd have called out to him, got it all cleared up there and then instead of festering on it like some insecure jealous  _idiot_ ...

His eye lighted on his mobile, but for the hundredth time since he'd got home he decided  _not_ to call.

Turning back to the window he leaned against the cold glass of the pane and asked himself 'why?' 


End file.
